The Created of Runeterra
by Drachegirl14
Summary: The summoners of Valoran had no idea the world of Runeterra was in fact alive. And it had created and chosen its champion to stand against the coming threat.
1. Chapter 1

**DRACHEGIRL14: So this is my first foray into League of Legends fiction – I have to say I'm pretty freaking excited. It's very different from other fandoms I've done before, but I do hope you like it. **

**Currently, this remains a one-shot, until enough interest is shown in it for me to continue.  
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**Summary: The summoners of Valoran had no idea the world of Runeterra was in fact alive. And it had created and chosen its champion to stand against the coming threat. Now, champions and citizens alike are forced to chose their side – or face total annihilation.**

**Rating: M**

**Key: Italics like **_this_ **indicate thoughts or sounds. Underlines like **this **indicate the ancient dialect of Runeterra. Good? Good. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything from League of Legends – it all belongs to Riot. I'm just a League player having some fun. I do own Cyrene and her mission and that's about it.**

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><p><em>TH-THUMP. TH-THUMP.<em>

A heartbeat. Strength. Warmth. A strong loving presence. Ancient wisdom. A sense of a being out of time, present now and in the future and the past.

_Who am I?_

A gentle reassurance. Cradled in the warm embrace of power gained through longevity and knowledge. A voice that was neither male nor female and yet both at the same time, whispering softly to her in a language long forgotten by its current denizens. It was aware, very aware, whatever this . . . thing was. She was not so aware of anything but It. Well, that wasn't true. She knew one truth, that rung to the core of her being.

_I am Your Champion . . . _

No, she was corrected. She wasn't just a Champion. She was Its strength, Its courage. She was meant to fight the coming Threat, the thing that sought to devour and destroy, leaving only oblivion behind.

_I am Your Strength . . . I am Yours . . . I am Your Vessel . . . _

She had been formed deep within Its core, shaped and molded from Its knowledge and power. None of those from the above world knew how very alive the source of their power was. They had utilized some of the power brimming at the surface and aroused Its consciousness.

The first thing It noticed was the deadly space on the horizon, the thing that sought to simply destroy. The little children above, from those in the desert to those in the forest and all over, had no idea what was coming, and soon. So, It was seeking to take matters into Its own hands. Thus, she had been birthed, to not only serve as a defense against the arrival of the threat . . .

_. . . a great empty space, creatures of horrific origin, coming to slaughter and burn and destroy, seeking to obliterate It and the ones above . . . I will not allow them to harm You! _

. . .but to serve as a bridge between It and Its denizens. There were many powerful creatures above, but some held only a lust for power, and the Threat could easily corrupt those who sought more.

_I seek to defend You . . . I will protect You . . . _

She felt strange – her peace and contentment to remain in the cradle of her creator fractured momentarily as fear swooped in. This task . . . she had been created and designed for it, but with so much on the line, with her beloved maker hanging in the balance (and really, she could feel nothing BUT love for whatever had brought her into creation), would she be strong enough?

A soft sense of comfort, of warm amusement and loving concern. It would be alright, she was assured. There were just as many powerful creatures above who sought to defend It as well, and surely she would find allies. She did not have to go through this task alone.

_I am Yours to command . . . _

She felt as though she were floating, rising, and there was suddenly a sense of joyous freedom. For one moment, her eyes opened and she saw a being glowing pure silver and gold, radiating such power that she was awestruck. Her eyes went blind from the radiant power of this thing, an agelessness surrounding it that took her breathe away.

Here was her Creator, the grand architect who strained and toiled to bring her into being, and taken the time to shape her, grant her life and her own skills to combat the looming danger. This thing in front of her was It, was the land and the magic and the energy and more flowing through this world.

"Runeterra," she whispered, her voice new and melodious in the empty silence.

_I NAME YOU MY CHAMPION, MY GUARDIAN. YOU ARE BLESSED WITH MY POWER AND SHALL DEFEND ME, MY CYRENE._

The glow grew ever brighter, and with one last tightening of the comforting embrace, she was released from the world's protective grasp. She felt for one second as though she were rising to an unknown destination, rather like approaching the surface of a body of water, before there was once again darkness in her vision. Slowly, achingly slowly, her vision cleared, her eyes blinked, and she looked down at herself. Softly glowing silver and gold sparks finished forming her body, leaving her standing in the middle of what looked to be a semi-forested path. There were large grasses to her left and right, water muddling around the roots, and the path she was on appeared to be hard packed dirt. Behind her, to her left, was a large statue of some sort of stone creature holding a stone rod with a large blue crystal set upon it – in front and to her right was the same statue, but it held a red crystal.

The area was saturated with magic and blood – she could taste Runeterra's power flowing freely here, a comforting sense of Home that had her relaxing her stance from combat ready to wary alertness.

Another soft shimmer in front of her and she absentmindedly reached forward with both of her hands. A familiar sort of weight settled into her palms, one in each hand. A glance downwards saw two delicate looking circle-like weapons resting innocently in her grasp. There was a sort of S-shaped handle where her hands were placed, and an intricate design of runes had been engraved into the slightly luminescent white metal. Around the edges, at the four cardinal directions, were rather vicious looking spikes.

She did not question where they had come from – they were a part of her, had always been with her, even as she slept during Runeterra's formation. Just as instinctively, she knew how to use them, and knew they would not break upon use in spite of their fragile look.

Her eyes raised from her weapons to her surroundings. Her vision did not extend far in this place, leading to a black fog of sorts that would make it impossible to see anything beyond it. Whatever this place was, it was not frightening to her in the least. She knew her mission, and now had only to find where to begin.

What the newly dubbed Cyrene did not understand, could not know, was that such a large spike of pure primal magic, something not known or even felt by Valoran for eons, would quickly attract notice.

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><p>Many summoners in the Institute of War, from the High Council to the most inexperienced novice, felt the pulse of magic. It surrounded them, spread through each body like wildfire, and left all who experienced it absolutely breathless from the sheer ageless feeling of it. But there was more.<p>

Over Summoner's Rift, a beautiful transparent barrier appeared, the same as whenever a League match would begin. But this time, the pulse of magic was contained within it.

Many panicked, and began to summon those champions who did not reside at the Institute to return immediately. Chaos began to reign supreme, even as many approached the arcane devices that would show exactly what was happening on the Fields of Justice.

* * *

><p>Deep within the League of Legends, even imprisoned as they were, the creatures of darkness, of anger and wickedness, agents of the Void, lifted their heads as they felt the pure pulse. As one, they all began to thrash angrily against their bindings, howling and raging to find the source of the magic and to eliminate it.<p>

* * *

><p>It did not matter what area of Valoran someone was in. From the frigid beauty of Freljord, to the dense and humid Plague Jungle, from Noxus to Demacia to the deserts of Shurima and the Shadow Isles, all could feel the wave of magic as it coursed over the land. Neighbor turned to neighbor, utterly bewildered by this turn of events. Each Champion, however, felt the call of the frantic summoners of the League, and did not resist as they were summoned.<p>

* * *

><p>He had simply been resting his tired limbs – these halls were not built for one of his stature. It certainly didn't help that many of the newest summoners still sought to gape at him as he wandered by between matches.<p>

Humans, Skarner reflected, were interesting creatures. It did not matter that their mistakes had at once both brought his race into being and destroyed them utterly. Their greed and hatred and desire for conflict made them utterly baffling to his mind – however, there were a few among them that desired peace and sought to commune with the spirit and that source of primal energy the way he and his brethren had eons ago.

The massive arachnid was jolted from his reverie by the pulse of magic, something so familiar and pure to him that it made his heart ache for the days long past. Jumping to his legs, he raced from the room he was allotted as his new home, ignoring the summoners running around him in a panic. The taste of the magic called to his soul, soothing the hurt and grief and rage he still carried with him, and beckoning him closer to where it originated. His legs scampered against the stone as fast as they could carry him – this pulse, this breath of magic that was far too tempting to ignore, far too promising to resist. Had another of his kind awoken?

His breaths came far quicker as that thought whirled in his mind, and he had reached a small device that would take him into the Fields of Justice. Without a second thought, desire driving him to move far quicker than he had before, he activated the device and was promptly teleported into the base on Summoner's Rift.

He ignored the merchant to his left and raced around the Nexus, skittering up the mid lane eagerly, nervously. Would it be a close friend? One of the younglings?

He skid to a stop upon reaching the outer turret. His heart shattered, hope lost as he gazed, not at another of his kind, but at a human woman who, upon hearing his footsteps, had slid into a fighting position.

Her skin was a pale peach color, her long hair a brilliant shade of red. She wore black pants made of a soft looking material, and a long black tunic top over that, with stitched runes in red along the hems. In each of her hands she carried a chakram, and her eyes, curious but strangely detached, were the color of the deepest green parts of the jungle.

She stared at him for a long time, cocking her head to the side as she studied him. When he made no movement, she relaxed her stance and slowly, hesitantly, took a step towards him.

"You are an ally? One Runeterra spoke of?" Her voice was soft, timid, almost as though she had never spoken aloud to anyone.

His mind was further sent whirling when she spoke, however, because that language was one he had not heard spoken since the days of his first meditation with his Arachia. This girl, this slip of a human woman, knew this language.

It was enough to bring his grief to full bear.

Her eyes assessed him once more before they lit up with an eery silver glow, and her voice seemed to magnify as she spoke, though it was significantly softer this time. "Know, Brackern, that you will be reunited with your brethren."

Skarner felt the same as when he had first awoken months ago – he felt adrift in one of the grand oceans his kind often told stories about, and he rather felt as though he was drowning. "Who . . . who are you?" he finally managed to croak out, trying to stop his emotions from spinning so tumultuously around his head.

The eery glow left her eyes, leaving behind a dense green that studied him with a new interest. "My Creator calls me Cyrene."

"Creator?"

She lifted her chin proudly. "Runeterra shaped me and molded me to be Its strength, Its vessel. I am to be Its defender."

"Defender? From what?" Skarner felt as though he could take no more, but he forged ahead anyways. Something was happening here, and despite the grief, hope, rage, sorrow, curiousity, and skepticism he felt, he knew he had to find out what.

"Something looms on the horizon," Cyrene whispered. "When it comes, it will destroy and devour all that it touches, and Runeterra shall be no more."

"And so . . ."

"Runeterra is alive, and created me in Its defense."

Silence permeated the area for several minutes as Skarner digested this new information. He was going to ask more, but Cyrene flicked her eyes upwards. "I am safe, and so the barrier shall come down."

"Barrier?" Skarner tilted his head to see that sure enough, somehow, there was a barrier present around Summoner's Rift, as was common to prevent interference during a League match. Still, he had managed to be teleported here just fine . . .

As he watched the barrier fade, a thought struck him. Was the barrier damaged?

"My Creator did not wish for me to be harmed before I was ready to fight," Cyrene confirmed, somehow reading his thoughts. "But now that I am accustomed to this place, there is no need of it."

Unfortunately, Skarner sighed heavily, the barrier coming down meant that many more were about to arrive. Sure enough, with the barrier gone, the turrets beginning to deactivate, and the fog of war lifted his eyes caught sight of three people leaving the purple Nexus base and heading straight for them. But that wasn't all – several other beams of light confirmed that others were coming from both sides. Skarner felt trapped and annoyed at being so.

_Wonderful. Now we get to deal with the High Council and the rest of the champions of Valoran._

* * *

><p>Cyrene watched in fascination as different creatures approached her and the Brackern. Though at once delighted to find creatures that looked as she did and terrified because she could not be sure to trust these newcomers, she did nothing to discourage their approach nor did she seek to rush their already hurried procession towards herself and her new ally.<p>

That the Brackern was on her side was a relief – Runeterra had whispered Its promise to the old arachnid and Cyrene had seen the exploits of the only awakened crystal scorpion. Skarner was sure to be a valuable ally against the coming threat, but even with her strength and his abilities, they alone could not stand against the threat looming on the horizon. She would have to find and gather more allies, but it wouldn't be too difficult a task.

She wouldn't allow it to be – her precious Creator was depending on her.

She lifted her chin as the procession slowed to a halt. She saw many robed people – summoners, Runeterra whispered to her – along with many unfamiliar creatures. Some looked as she did, walking upright on two legs, weapons at the ready, though their size varied from the large male creature with brown hair and plenty of armor to the small little blue one with a large cannon. Others were creatures she didn't recognize, metal and flesh and more, staring her down.

No matter. She was not intimidated.

"Are you the source of that magic?" asked a woman's voice. Her robes were far more ornate than the others' – indeed runes were stitched along the hems of her robes, her face hidden from Runeterra's Created.

Cyrene cocked her head to the side. She did not understand this strange language the woman spoke. It was quite different, almost harsher, than the language she spoke.

She glanced over at Skarner. "I do not understand her language."

"You cannot understand them?" He asked, feeling a headache surge into his skull. Things were so complicated right now . . . that this girl who claimed to be Runeterra's own creation could not understand the common language only added to it. Sighing heavily, the Brackern turned his great head to look at High Councilor Vessaria Kolminye. "She does not understand the Common Language."

"She does not?" The High Councilor's eyes were sharp with disdain and calculation as she examined the new woman in front of her. "Ask her if she is the one who was the source of that magic."

"She demands to know if you were the source of that magical surge of energy," Skarner repeated in a dull voice.

Cyrene blinked, her large jungle-green eyes still detached. "Energy? Do you refer to the discharge from Runeterra's core?"

"Core?" Skarner asked sharply.

"My birthplace, the source of all power on Runeterra," Cyrene clarified, her weapons loose in her hands now.

Skarner felt his skull throb as his headache steadily began to worsen. "She says she was not the source. It came from some place she calls the Core. She will not say anything else." He wasn't sure why he was lying to the High Councilor, only that his instincts instructed him to. The Brackern looked back to the strange woman who had lost interest in the High Councilor and was now examining those who stood behind her.

"Then why is she here? How did she get here? Does she intend to kill?" High Councilor Vessaria demanded.

"I don't know," Skarner muttered. "She wouldn't tell me."

Cyrene, meanwhile, had shifted her eyes to the great crowd of people with Vessaria. Some were smaller than others . . . _Yordles_ whispered Runeterra. Others were plain humans, although there were quite a few who gave negative vibes and even more that made her muscles tighten in anticipation of a battle. _The Prophet . . . . the Void Walker . . . others hidden deep under the League . . . those from the Isles . . . _Her eyes would settle on a Champion and Runeterra whispered to her their title, their significance in the woven threads of Fate.

Still ignoring the harsh, demanding voice of the woman and the irritated voice of the Brackern, Cyrene nodded to herself.

Runeterra was correct. The Threat was coming, and it threatened to devour. At least now, she had established an ally.

But how many more would she be able to secure before it broke loose? How long could she endure fighting Time until Fate saw fit to enact her plan?

It didn't matter, Cyrene decided then.

She knew her mission. She would not allow herself to fail. The Void was coming, and its arrival loomed on the horizon. She would be the one to step forward to defend her beloved Creator, and she would gather allies to help her fight and defeat the feared threat.

She would not allow for anything less.


	2. Chapter 2

**Drachegirl14: As before, the key remains the same.**

Words like this **where it is underlined** **are indicative of the ancient language of Runeterra that Cyrene speaks with Skarner.**

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><p>Over the next few days, Skarner was removed from the roster of active champions. The High Council had decided that, in light of the stranger's inability to understand simple speech, she would be his new "roommate" until such time as she could understand at least the basics.<p>

The arrangement was unsettling for the large crystal scorpion. He preferred his solitude and his space. The fights were a tolerable circumstance of his early awakening, and he could deal with the summoners every now and again (there were even a few he found to be good companions). Occasionally he was known to be social with a select few from the League. However most of the time he spent alone in his room, reading texts of all that had happened since his species went into hibernation, or examining the different cultures with a little fascination. He held no interest in the political contexts of each nation, nor of the concerts by Plentakill or any of the social events that went on under the watchful eyes of the Council. He simply was content to be by himself.

This was no longer the case. A small mattress arrived at his room soon after returning from the Rift, and Cyrene settled it and the ragged blanket in a corner of his room in an unobtrusive fashion. Skarner noted, with reluctant amusement, that the bed was spaced and angled towards the door, as though she expected to fall under attack. "We won't be attacked off the field," Skarner told the slip of the girl. "There is magic here that prevents such a thing."

Cyrene had glanced up at him, her eyes somehow still detached but also firm in her choice, "There is more than one way to attack someone. I would prefer to not be caught off guard."

Skarner, unsure of what to say, simply nodded his head.

After that particular conversation, Skarner realized that the girl would mostly be dependent upon him. Though she seemed a capable fighter, based on her movements and quick reactions to sounds she was unfamiliar with, the problem was that she still did not understand simple speech. That in mind, he had set about attempting to teach her simple phrases and words. He was not the most patient teacher, however, and soon found his task to be daunting and overwhelming. To combat this, he would escort her to the League's archives, where she would practice her words and phrases with the Curator of the Sands. Nasus, unlike himself, was a very patient and wise teacher, and was one of the preferred companions for Skarner within the League.

They found themselves here again today, Skarner having no tolerance any longer for staying within his chambers and struggling to teach the young stranger the harsh sounds for the common tongue of the present times. He observed the two, sitting at a table, Nasus' calm gaze soothing Cyrene's frustration and confusion.

"Cyrene," Nasus spoke again.

"Cy . . . rennene?" Cyrene tried and failed to form the somewhat odd sounding syllables. The language was heavy and difficult, but she knew she had to perservere. How else could she commune with those she needed to recruit against the Void? She couldn't rely on Skarner the whole time. She had, from simple observations, noted he seemed uncomfortable with her constant presence and that would just not do. Aside from the fact that she had no wish to unduly upset the scorpion, she did not want him to deny her assistance when the time came for the battle against the hordes of nightmarish creatures.

"Cy. Rene," Nasus repeated again, gesturing to her.

Cyrene took a deep breath and pointed at herself, "Cy . . . rene. Cy. Rene. Cyrene."

The Curator of the Sands nodded his great dog head once, a small smile quirked onto his lips. "Yes. Cyrene."

The girl clapped her hands in delight. "Cyrene!"

Skarner watched with amusement from his place over by the bookshelf. The girl reminded him of the younger Brackern, when they first learned to communicate. She was so pleased by the smallest progress, he mused. What kind of a champion would she make then? It wasn't too much of an impossibility to imagine her jumping up and down excitedly when she destroyed her first minion.

"Skarner," spoke a female voice.

Broken from his musings, Skarner turned his head towards the girl, who was grinning at him excited. "I spake."

"Yes, Cyrene, you did speak," Nasus emphasized the last word, effortlessly directing her back to her vocal lessons.

"She certainly seems to be a handful, doesn't she?" a sly voice spoke from his left.

Skarner flinched slightly, his eyes already finding the slowly sharpening outline of the Widowmaker. "Evelyn."

"Oh come now, I only came to check that the newest oddity around the League was doing alright," Evelyn's voice would have been the perfect picture of innocence and sweetness, and had Skarner not been well aware of her nature, he may had been taken in by it.

"Yes, I'm certain you were," Skarner muttered. "What else do you want?"

"A little of this, a little of that, a man to warm my bed for the evening . . ." She murmured, her eyes glinting with a predatory light and remaining fixed on Cyrene.

"You won't find that here," the crystal scorpion scoffed. "Go bother someone else Widowmaker."

There was no answer, but Evelyn faded away. Skarner sighed and turned his attention to the oblivious new comer who continued to struggle with what she learned. It seemed she'd be even more trouble than she first appeared, and he was not sure he liked the upset to his normally quiet life.

* * *

><p>Cyrene grinned as she followed Skarner back to their room. She had managed to say her name and to say the name of the large scorpion at her side. She had even managed to string together a simple sentence, and with Skarner translating, put more words to what she already knew.<p>

"Cat," she said again softly to herself, picturing the small creature in her mind.

She heard a quiet huff of amusement from her escort, but paid it no mind. Cyrene was eager to continue her progress, and thanks to the guidance of Nasus, she knew it would only be a matter of time before she could properly communicate.

Then her real mission would begin. Cyrene's giddiness at her already phenomenal progress began to fade slowly, her smile slipping from her lips. Oh there were so many people here, so many champions and summoners alike. How was she to know who would be accepting of her alliance and who would not?

Skarner noticed his companion's change of mood, but remained silent, simply observing her face from the corner of his eye. Her eyes, for every day that she had been "alive" (so to speak), had lost some of their detachment, becoming more expressive. This was not necessarily a good thing, however. Her emotions were so raw and there was an innocence and naivety to her that would make her easily manipulated.

There was also the fact that more and more often she had become so earnest in her endeavors to learn this language – this . . . bothered Skarner somewhat, as he couldn't seem to understand why she was this way. He had guesses, of course, and he wasn't entirely sure he appreciated the disruption to his life, but it still . . . bothered him.

"You are troubled, Skarner," Cyrene noted softly as they rounded the corner to their room. "What bothers you?"

"You are going after the speaking lessons with a strong will, and you seem very pleased at even the smallest amounts of progress," Skarner finally said, after a moment of silence. "I am attempting to discern why you seek to do so."

Cyrene glanced around, coming to a halt next to the door to their rooms. "There is a coming threat, and it is not resting as it approaches. Nor can I, if I wish to fulfill my purpose of protecting Runeterra from it."

"What is it?" Skarner asked quietly. "Why must you rush to speak in order to do this?"

"It is the Void," Cyrene whispered, her eyes troubled with a mixture of fear and courage. The temperature seemed to decrease at the mention of the horrific nightmarish place. Skarner easily recalled facing those champions of the Void, and remembered how each time seemed to never fail at inspiring a fresh surge of terror and the desire to flee from their monstrous visages. "It will come and devour us all. Runeterra has created me to stand as its defender but I cannot do so alone. I must seek allies here, the powerful champions of the League of Legends, in order to fulfill my mission."

"And afterwards?" Skarner asked sharply. "Once you have successfully completed your mission, turned back the Void, and defended Runeterra?"

Cyrene shrugged, "I will most likely fade back to Runeterra's Core, so there is no need to be bothered by an afterwards."

Skarner sighed, somewhat taken aback by her lack of caring towards her own life. She was definitely an enigma in spite of her naivety and innocence. Her misunderstanding of how bonds could grow and forge (for indeed, he saw it all the time between the races here at the League) seemed that it would become an issue. "You do not seem to understand how these humans and other creatures around here work, Cyrene . . . be mindful of them as well."

Cyrene looked quizzically at her arachnid roommate, but before she could ask there was a cheerful greeting from down the corridor, "Hello!"

Both turned to see a small woman striding towards them, her normally present canon missing. Tristana's ears wiggled slightly, a sign she was excited. "How's it goin'?" she chirped, coming to a stop in front of them.

Skarner nodded his head. The small yordle had always been kind to him, although he never expressly spoke to her or sought her out. She was a worthy teammate and he greatly respected her abilities as well as her demeanor, even if she was a bit too . . . upbeat . . . for his tastes. "Hello Tristana. We are well. And yourself?"

"I'm alright," Tristana shrugged. "I came to see if you guys wanted to go to dinner?"

Cyrene's gaze was switching between the two of them as they spoke, a glimmer of frustration present in her green orbs. Skarner had to suppress a smile, admitting to himself that the earnest girl was, in her own way, amusing and interesting. "I am not hungry at this time. But perhaps you could take Cyrene with you as I rest."

"Sure thing," Tristana nodded, looking up at the human girl. "Cyrene right?"

Cyrene could definitely recognize her own name, nodding and pointing at herself. "Cyrene."

"She is still learning the common tongue, Tristana," Skarner warned. "She may not understand you when you speak."

"That's okay," the Yordle said, reaching up and taking Cyrene's hand with a kind smile. "I'll go extra slow. Have a good nap!" With a cheeky wink, Tristana tugged the somewhat confused girl down the hall.

As their footsteps faded, Skarner let out a heavy sigh. He was definitely getting old, he thought to himself as his joints creaked. Slowly he opened the door and wandered in, shutting it behind him.

* * *

><p>Cyrene blinked curiously at the yordle next to her. She had been led away from the crystal scorpion, down numerous hallways until finally her guide stopped outside a massive doorway. Tristana grinned up at her and pointed inside. "Hungry?"<p>

Cyrene's eyebrows creased and she considered the word, before her stomach growled softly. Tristana nodded and reached up to tap the girl's stomach. "Hungry."

"Hunguree," Cyrene tasted the word slowly, before touching her stomach. There was an empty sensation, one that was satisfied by sustenance, and she knew that Tristana was attempting to teach her a word. "Hunguree."

Tristana grinned at her new companion, before guiding her into the huge room. A large stone ceiling had been erected, the large columns along the walls with four in the middle of the floor supporting the stone weight. The four that stood in the center were spaced with roughly seven feet between them in a square formation. At the top of these columns was a large magically lit stone surface. It glittered with an enchanting soft blue light, and shed plenty of illumination in the room. Along the floor, which was easily fifty feet if not more across, were settled several wooden tables and benches, and was somewhat filled by summoners and champions alike. The grey stone acted as an amplifier for the sound, words blending and rising and falling at the dinner conversation.

Tristana ignored the glances and stares with ease, pointing out items and giving words. Cyrene soaked it all in, focused completely on the yordle. Slowly, they wandered towards the back of the room, stopping every time Cyrene would point to an object and taste the word given by Tristana before continuing on. After a few moments, they arrived at a smaller door in the back of the room, where the Yordle Gunner ordered food for herself.

As the plate was presented to her, Tristana took a second to inhale the mouthwatering aroma of some sort of meat and vegetable dish in a deep red sauce. Supposedly, it was a dish more familiar to those from Ionia, but that didn't really matter to the Yordle. Glancing up at Cyrene, she pointed to her food. "Food?"

The appetizing smells made Cyrene's mouth water, and she nodded. "Food."

Tristana turned to the woman eyeing them behind the counter. "Another order of this please, for my friend."

The woman snorted but served the order in an efficient manner, proof of her long service to the League. Cyrene accepted the plate, nodding to the woman. "Thank you for the sustenance. Blessings to you."

Tristana watched in amusement as the woman behind the counter graced them with a confused look, nudging her friend and jerking her head back the way they came. Again, stares were given, and again they were ignored as Tristana settled herself and her new friend at a table in the corner, away from the main portion of the room. She noticed, with some bemusement, that Cyrene swept her eyes over the crowd and then positioned herself in a corner, a position that would allow her to fight more effectively and ensure no one would attack from her blindside.

Lowering herself gracefully, Cyrene picked up her fork and poked at the food for a few seconds. Amusement grew inside Tristana as she watched Cyrene carefully cut the dish into smaller, manageable pieces and took her first bite.

Wide forest green eyes met her own as Cyrene chewed and swallowed eagerly, grinning in delight. "Food!"

Tristana laughed quietly, digging into her own meal. "Good?"

"Goo-odd?" Cyrene frowned.

Tristana cocked her head to the side, before she pointed at the dish and smiled. "Good food."

"Goo-odd food," Cyrene murmured, obviously making a mental note of the phrase, before returning to her meal with gusto. For a while, both females focused fully on eating, smiling at each other when one would glance up and meet the other's gaze. Tristana felt satisfied both with the meal and her new friend – the girl would most likely need allies in a place like the League.

Watching Cyrene set aside her cleaned plate, wipe her mouth and arranged the silver ware to make the clean up more easily done on the staff, Tristana decided the girl might be alright after all. She was polite and curious, eager to learn, and had good instincts.

If nothing else, she'd make a hell of a Champion.


End file.
